January 13, 2009

Dear Mom,

I’m not quite sure how to describe today. I’ve been tired, obviously, since I had such a late night, but I’ve been kind of low as well. I had thought doing these letters would make everything better, but something is still missing. Hah. Yeah, it is . . . you. I guess things will never be the same again. Not with you gone. I think part of it is that I’m itching to do something even though I’m depressed, whether it be cleaning house or writing, there’s something I need to be doing and I’m not. I guess I’m going to have to figure it out and make some changes. In the meantime though I’ve got to go to bed. It’s one a.m. and I’m yawning my head off. My jaw is cracking I’m yawning so big. I don’t have anything to say anyway, I’m just dying to write something, anything, and this seems to be the only thing I can write right now.

I’m hoping to write some new first chapters soon so I am prepared for the contest this year. I want to actually make my best effort to win this year. I don’t want to win on a rough draft again. I want to know I did my very best whether I win or not, but I want to genuinely try. That is my goal. I need some stories to submit though and I’ve got to decide which ones I want to do. Newtimber for sure. Maybe a rewrite of teenage wizard with the dad disappearing. I’ll give that one just one more shot before I let it go for contests. Beyond that I’ll have to write something new. Maybe my werewolf detective story or another man’s shoes would work. The medieval flute player one might be good as well. Or maybe a new idea altogether would work. I’d love to write a first chapter using Gary’s idea, but that’s his story to write, not mine. I will NOT steal it from him. It might be fun to use the funny one I started on my alphasmart. It was Sci-Fi and was meant to be bad writing but ended up being moderately funny.

Anyway, I’m totally rambling now. You don’t need to know all of that, though it sure would have been fun to sit down with you and hammer out ideas. I’m helping Gary hammer out ideas for his story but who knows if he’ll ever write it. I do hope he’ll give me permission to do it if he won’t. I guess I’ll go to bed. This is stuff I should be writing about in my morning pages, not bothering you with, but I miss you. I miss talking to you about my ideas and knowing you heard and accepted and loved me for who I am.

I kept thinking about you last night, trying to remember you in my younger life. I remember your voice a lot in California, but only have one vivid memory of you there. You were making an art project, which I rarely saw you do, and it involved paper, sticks, some kind of spray, and fire. It was really cool and I remember seeing it in later years. I just wish I could remember more from my younger years. I’ve rehearsed so many of my daddy memories from that time I’ve not really included memories of you and now I fear it may be too late. I hope not. I want to access as many memories of you as I can and cling to them. They are more precious than gold. My most vivid memories with you were our trips. I loved sitting up front with you by myself and listening to your stories. You always told stories about your life or about Daddy or even about me and your spiritual experiences. I always felt so privileged to be your confidante, even when I was young. There are so many things I would have done different if I’d known my time with you was to be as short as it was.

I miss you so much. I know I say that in every letter but it never changes and has to be expressed. It’s not as much a desperate pain as it has been, but it still hurts. The memories are easier to keep now. Not so painful as they were before, but I wish there were time to make more memories. I wish I’d helped you more and resented you less when you tried to boss me around and tell me how to live my life. You meant the best and I knew it even then. I just wish I’d listened. You’ve always been wise, Mom. I think you were born that way, and I have always been an impulsive, stubborn child. I’m sorry for the hurt I caused you. I’m sorry to have hurt you. I never wanted to and I learned over time how to change. I only wish it hadn’t taken so long. I wish I’d done more.

I said I was going to bed and yet here I stay. I can’t help myself. This makes me feel better than anything else I try. It allows me to express the pain in my heart and soul and communicate with you still. It lets my thoughts be revealed on paper and I only hope you are allowed to see them. I know you can’t write or call back, but at least I can know you hear me and maybe you can reach me some other way. Thank you for helping to arrange my teaching at the junior high with Shanna. I know you had something to do with that. I also feel like you had something to do with Stacy getting accepted with her publisher and looking at my manuscript. I only hope she sees some potential there and is willing to work with it. If that is what Heavenly Father wants, I hope you and his other angels will open doors and make it happen. I know it can if the time is right. I hope it will be soon.

I guess I’ll go to bed now. I really do need to get some sleep. Morning comes early when you’ve got two kids to get off to school. If I go to bed now I can get six hours of sleep in before time to get up. That’s not enough, but it’s better than some nights. Hopefully I can get some writing in somewhere during the day as well, though I do need to clean house too. I wish I could hire someone to come and help me. I’m actually about to call Gary’s Mom and say “Help!” She offered and I definitely need it. Maybe I’ll see if they can come out Saturday or something. It would sure be nice to get the stuff in the family room gone through once and for all. I’d like to get it out of the way.

I love you. I hope you know that. I know you loved me too, but I still miss hearing it and feeling your arms around me. I never realized how important touch was to me until I lost you. It brings tremendous comfort. Now I have to feel your touch from the inside out rather than the outside in. But then you always did teach me that that’s the way the spirit works. Now you get to help.

Eternally yours,

Karen